The Secret of the Glasses
by SunflowerAro
Summary: What if Peter had reacted differently when Beck put on the glasses? What if he discovered something new about them as a result?


Peter laughed softly along with Quentin. He hated to admit it, but that he had taken quickly to the man; he had an upbeat, caring personality and was easy to get along with. Beck was kind to him, understanding when he needed space. He understood the burden of being a superhero, and that sometimes he just needed someone to listen. He wasn't like Fury, who demanded the world of Peter and was disappointed when he couldn't deliver. He hadn't pressured him to drink either, instead buying him a juice without question. Peter was surprised at how quickly he had wormed his way into his heart, alongside his friends and his heart as one he cared for dearly.

Peter felt a stab of pain in his heart when Beck brought up the glasses, but that was quickly forgotten at the quick quips passed between the two at how horrid the style was. Beck was right, while they meant a lot to him, the style just didn't suit his personality. He'd offered for his friend to try them on, prepared to make fun of him as had been done to him; instead, his breathe caught in his throat. Quentin offered him a grin.

"See? Looks stupid, right?"

But Peter found he couldn't reply. He was stuck, frozen as he stared not into Quentin Beck's eyes, but those of his old mentor, of his father figure: Tony Stark.

Peter swallowed painfully, wincing as the lump in his throat didn't vanish like he intended it to.

"It looks, uh." He couldn't speak, couldn't bear to look anymore. Beck was concerned now.

"Hey, you alright?" He asked softly, removing the glasses.

Peter found he could finally breathe, but it was like someone had taken a hammer to his heart and smashed it to pieces once more, and he had only just put it together again...

He blinked quickly to disperse the tears which had gathered. "Yeah, sorry. I- I have to go now, sorry." He took the proffered glasses, slipping hem away where they could no longer torment him.

Beck looked at him quizzically, but nodded, and Peter had never been more grateful for his understanding personality.

"Maybe we can meet up another time?" He suggested, feeling bad for ruining to night, but he couldn't bear to be with anyone much longer. Beck nodded slowly, grabbing his arm before he could take off.

"You sure you're okay, kiddo?" Peter felt a fresh wave of tears assault him — he needed to leave, now.

"'Course," he muttered, shrugged the hand off and walking out, not looking back once. He knew his behaviour would be questioned tomorrow, that he was causing Beck to fret over his wellbeing, but if he stayed another moment he would burst into tears in front of his new friend.

Glancing around, he surreptitiously scaled the wall beside the bar, leaping over the edge. He jumped over a couple of roofs to put space between himself and Beck before settling down on the edge of some shop, long closed by now. The roof was hardly new, slightly dilapidated, but it would do. He pulled out the glasses, hazing longingly into the reflective piece. If only Tony was here. Quentin was nice, sure, but Peter's relationship with him could never hope to replace that of his and Tony's — the two had been inseparable, their personalities seemed to click together. They had their rough patches, sure, but they worked through them together. Now, Tony was gone, and he knew he could never replace what they had. Dare he say it, Tony had been something akin to a father to him; he had shown him a new perspective, helped him in his times of need, been there through thick and thin. He'd even helped him with his homework on more than one occasion. Peter swept away some of the stray tears he hadn't previously noticed with his arm, smiling wistfully at the glasses, turning them over between his fingers. He regretted the action, as they slipped through his fingers out into open air, towards the ground 30 ft below.

'Shit shit shit' was all he could think as he leapt forward, thanking the radioactive spider for his ability to stick as he snatched them up, holding them close to his racing heart. His finger slipped on...a button? Peter hopped back onto the roof, settling down cross-legged. He examined the glasses closely, but couldn't see anything, yet as he felt the rim, his finger passed over what could only be a button. Holding his breathe, he pressed it down.

Light. Brilliant, blue light encompassed the roof from the glasses. A hologram took shape from the light; Tony Stark was in front of him.

Peter felt the tears build up yet again and made no effort to hold them back as they streamed down his face in torrents.

"Heya, Underoos. If you're seeing this, I'm probably dead-" despite it all, Peter laughed wetly-"that sucks. I may be gone, but now you have Edith, and I've programmed her to look after you now that I can't." Tony's face softened. "I'm sorry to leave you, kiddo. You...you were like a son to me, the son I never had. I cherished every moment together, I just wanted you to know that. I couldn't tell you while I was alive — I was too ashamed, who knew if you felt the same. But you'll always be my kid." Tony smiled, whereas Peter couldn't help the sob that tore through his throat. "Anyway, ill see you in the next life, kid. Take care, for me." Tony saluted, then the hologram dispersed, the light returning back to the glasses. Peter held them close to his chest as he cried, the message very dear to him. Tony had felt the same. Finally. Finally, after what felt like hours, he stood, slipping the glasses into his pocket and wiping away the tears, a smile gracing his lips and his heart slowly piecing itself together once more. He may never be able to move on from the loss, but he could accept it and grow. Until they could meet again, as Tony said. He would get better, for Tony.


End file.
